Fargo, ND to Pelican Rapids, MN. 62.0 miles.
Leaving Fargo and crossing the river headed East meant I was leaving North Dakota, and entering Minnesota. I struggled to find my way across the river, as the street naming convention relative to my map, while somewhat distracted on the phone with Victoria, left me confused and unaware that I had passed my turn headed South for a mile or so. Eventually I turned East into the wind and entered the bike-friendly state of many lakes.
After about ten miles of farmland, mostly corn, the existence of lakes on the landscape was suddenly commonplace, sometimes hidden by the dense, shiny dark-green leaves of thick stands of oaks intermixed with other broad leafed trees.
Water was everywhere, the landscape and air saturated, blurring the line between wet and dry. I was in the heart of the territory from which Minnesota was coined the land of 10,000 lakes. The dead-straight route I had been following as I traveled through Eastern North Dakota had been replaced by a road composed of a series of arcs strung together, their bends navigating around the shores of these lakes.
The thicket of trees seemed to be at war with the agricultural fields over real estate, their branches encroaching on the air space of the hay and corn fields.
By the time I reached the town of Cormorant, the small lakes I had been passing were replaced by much bigger ones, suitable for water-skiing, fishing, swimming, and boating. Cormorant was surrounded by lakes, and the people in town seemed to be there on vacation to enjoy all that the lakes have to offer, whether up for a week or hanging out in their Summer home. My route turned South, still heading into the Southeasterly winds that had been slowing me down all day. Just outside of Cormorant, I entered "Otter Tail County".
Each lake I passed seemed to have a small nucleus of activity, a yacht club, pizza joint, boat and jet ski rentals, a few homes on the lakeshore, or a bar and grill.
I set a goal to ride to a town called Fergus Falls. I still had at least 20 miles to go and it was already 7:00 pm. As I approached a smaller town, Pelican Rapids, I heard a noise that was persistent enough and just loud enough that it warranted pulling my earphones out. The sound was that of another flat tire. Darn! It was the same back tire as the first time. Tired, and defeated knowing that I wasn't going to make it to Fergus Falls, I reluctantly began the process of removing the 4 bags, the i-Phone cradle, the tire pump and water bottles, fished for the tool bag from within my pannier bag, and I turned the bike upside down to work on it, all while trying to keep the persistent mosquitos at bay. I did have one more new tube I could have used as a replacement. But I decided to patch it as I was able to locate the leak. The entire process took about 40 minutes.
It was now going on 8 pm as I entered the town of Pelican Rapids. I decided that I would get something to eat and find a place to stay here.
Two young girls were walking down the main street into town. I passed them, then hit the brakes hard realizing that they might be able to provide some insight as to where I could eat at this late hour. They were a bit startled by my entrance into their world. But, they were very helpful in pointing me to a "great" Mexican food place. I took them up on their offer, knowing well that "great" Mexican food in these parts translates to "it's edible". It actually turned out to be fine. And, they also had an ice cream display case up front. BONUS!
All the while I ate dinner, I wondered how the town acquired it's name. The landscape certainly was too flat for any rapids to exist around here like those I had recently seen in Idaho. I was determined to get to the bottom of it, but after ice cream of course.
I left the restaurant headed a short distance down a side street to the city park that also had a campground. Along the way, I stumbled on what must have been "Pelican Rapids".
There's a lot of pride amongst the locals with regard to the name of this city and it's cascading wonder. The town has pelicans planted all over the place, each wearing something unique.
The spotted dalmatio-pelican below was standing outside the fire station.
The scenery at the campground was beautiful. Surrounded by a lake on two sides, plenty of green grass, and no-one else there, I picked the perfect site and crawled into my freshly-pitched tent to hide from the mosquitos.
I remember our first time camping across country with just Mark and Therese. Took a motel in Vegas because of a sand storm...we were chased across Nebraska by a tornado and then a nice campground in Iowa and spent most of the night swatting mosquitoes. Hope you get into your tent early enough from here on to beat the mosquitoes to bed.
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